


Cat Callers with Guns

by QueenWuppy



Series: Don't Take That Sinner From Me [1]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I have plans, So far that's like all it is, and cuddling in bed platonically, new! update! chap two is family afternoon tea and dinner and also more lying about in bed cuddling, plans that will get me like 500 words into the next chapter (so not very many plans), this is mostly just fluff, uhh this is mostly getting drunk and being upset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-21 17:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11949303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWuppy/pseuds/QueenWuppy
Summary: Uh, well. ah saw this:nat is in the us on the run in america from a government that probably wants her dead or worse. Tony is mourning the death of his parents the only way he knows how: making a mess. They meet when Tony, hungover, catcalls a random girl he sees walking by.“Hey lady, you wanna get married?”Natalia Romanova makes a decision. She says yes.and was... Inspired, one might say. (I would. I would say that)(Edited on 25/9 changed title; new ending to second chapter; now part of a series!)





	1. Tony

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post (https://queenwuppy.tumblr.com/post/164741343045/redshoestinhouses-thegoldenavenger-heres-an) by thegoldenavenger  
> many thanks for the idea, I hope you like what I have so far. I (maybe? hopefully) will be adding at least one more chapter, but we'll see. We'll see...

It’s nearly eleven in the morning, and Tony has a headache. He’s woken up because of the loud steps Rhodey is taking as he thuds up the stairs to Tony’s room. It’s intentional, Rhodey hates when he’s wasted; hates even more when he’s hardly hungover because he’s still too drunk to really be hungover yet.  
  
Regardless, Rhodey is intentionally making his headache worse, because he is a dick. And so Tony rolls over and squints at the floor.  
  
He can’t see shit, so he slides his arm off the bed and fumbles around on the wooden floor with it, colliding with numerous things he could care less about - empty bottles, his wallet, his watch, his sunnies, the sheets and duvet, his belt, t shirt and jacket - and finally! a bottle that’s not entirely empty. Excellent. He drags it up to his face, and puts the rim to his lips.  
  
The door is thrown open with a thud and Tony flinches, which has the side effect of tipping the beer onto his face, rather than into his mouth.  
  
Rhodey stares at him, silent for a moment.  
  
“… At least it’s not puke.”  
  
Tony pouts. At least it’s not cold as it drips off his face and onto his bare chest.  
  
Rhodey picks his way carefully through the mess that is his room, to the bay windows with their thin curtains, which he throws wide open. Tony winces.  
  
“Get dressed, Tony,” Rhodey sighs. “Maybe have a shower, too.”  
  
Tony rolls over to put his back to Rhodey, and pulls the duvet over his head.  
  
Rhodey makes a small, injured sound, and sits on the edge of the bed. It dips beneath his weight - Rhodey is mostly muscle and also 6 foot of man, so the shitty bed slides Tony toward him. Rhodey is doing something, it doesn’t take long, and then Tony hears the sound of a pair of boots softly hitting the ground. Rhodey swings his legs up onto the bed. He scoops Tony into his chest and lies down behind him, pulling the covers over himself as well.  
  
“Tones,” and it’s gentle, like a soft breeze. The problem with a soft breeze, is that if you’re standing on the edge, just barely keeping your balance, a soft breeze is all it takes to fall off the cliff.  
  
Tony bursts into tears. It’s just too much. Rhodey holds him tight, for a long while, until his sobs are dying and his pillows are soaked with more than just stale beer.  
  
“I didn’t even like him,” Tony says eventually.

Rhodey nods. “You did, however, like mamma Maria. And Jarvis,” he points out. “You remember when mamma Maria played for us the first night I stayed over?”  
  
Tony giggles wetly. “Yeah. And Jay made us biscuits - scones! - and he put cream and jam on them. The way they’re supposed to be made, young sir. God, he’ll never make them for us again.”  
  
The was a few moments silence.  
  
“Mamma sang us hallelujah. She complained at Jay that the crumbs would get all through the keys.”  
  
Rhodey chokes a little. “She did.”  
  
“And she made you play on the piano too, even though you’ve no ear for music.”  
  
Rhodey rolls his damp eyes, smiling crookedly into Tony’s neck.  “She had me playing one note, Tony. I did manage to keep the beat.”  
  
“I was playing a harmony for her.”  
  
There is more quiet, but it’s soft. Warm. Rhodey doesn’t want to move, ever.  
  
“So,” he says eventually. “I think we should shower, go play hallelujah on the piano, eat some cookies with warm milk, and then go out and get absolutely wasted. And then when we wake up tomorrow, we’ll go see mama. She’s been asking after you, and wants to make sure you’re eating.”  
  
That makes Tony break out a real smile. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”  


  
_There’s a blaze of light in every word_ _  
_ _It doesn’t matter which you heard_ _  
_ _The holy or the broken hallelujah_ _  
  
_

  
  
  
  
It’s forty minutes later, and the sun has started to set. It’s lighting the sky up with colours Rhodey wishes he could appreciate.  
  
Their taxi driver clearly hates them (or perhaps just Rhodey), judging by the glares, but is well aware of the money he’ll get if he merely puts up with them.  
  
“It’s a karaoke bar?!” Rhodey asks with no small amount of alarm, cutting through Tony as he hummed along with the car radio.  
  
“Where the fuck else would I go to remember Mamma and Jay?”  
  
“You have a point, Tones.”  
  
Tony smirked at him. “I always do.”  
  
“Yes, but sometimes that point is that you wanna embarrass me,” Rhodey scowls.  
  
Tony’s smirk flips into a wide grin. “Is it not always the point?”  
  
“Dammit, Tony.”  
  
The taxi finally manages to pull out of the traffic. Tony pulls open his wallet and hands over half the cash in it to the driver, who beams at them.  
  
“Keep the change,” Tony says ejecting himself forcefully from the car. The door slams shut behind him.  
  
“Sorry about him. And thanks,” Rhodey says. He opens the door, hops out and breathes in the smell of NYC at ground level. _Pleasant._ He swings the door shut, and strides after Tony, who is already talking to the bouncer outside the bar.  
  
“-keep me out. Call Malcolm down, if you don’t believe me,” Tony is saying.  
  
The guy seems skeptical, but does stick his nose back inside the building.  
  
“So,” Rhodey says. Tony blinks up at him. “What are you going to order first?”

  
“Sex on the Beach,” Tony replies instantly. “Carrie convinced me they were good, and I’ve been craving on for, like, a week. She keeps blathering in about it in class. Very irritating, especially when she -”  
  
The bouncer still has that skeptical look, but gestures them through the door. “Apparently, you have special permission.”  
  
Rhodey rolls his eyes.  
  
Tony claps his hands and they walk inside.

 

 

 

  
It’s only a few hours later, but they’re both falling-down-drunk. And singing on a stage, because that’s what you do at a karaoke bar.  
  
It’s well, it’s not one of Jay’s actual favourites, but it’s a song Tony played for him a lot. And Jay would always sing along as best he could though he was probably just humouring him, and it’s definitely one of Tony’s best memories of the man.

  
  
_Take on me_

_Take me on_

_I'll be gone_

_In a day_

_I'll be gone_

_In a day_

  
  
“We shud pr’bly get home, so we can be up in the mornin’,” Rhodey says as they stumble off the stage.  
  
“Hmm…” Tony says. “Are we… wasted enough, yet? I want another shot or two ‘fore we leave, though.”  
  
“I s’pose I could have ‘nother Blowjob.”  
  
“mmmm,” Tony says. They clamber over to the bar, and Tony orders them their last drinks. “Two Blowjobs and a Kamikaze, thanks.”  
  
“On your tab, Mister Stark?”  
  
Tony rolls his eyes. “Duh.”  
  
Rhodey clumsily elbows him. “Don’ be rude, T’ny, not to a beau-ti-ful woman like this.” He gestures dramatically at the bartender.  
  
The woman in question raises an eyebrow, and pulls a bottle from below the benchtop.  
  
“Rhodey, You tryin' to pick someone up, tonight? Leave me 'lone, on this, the day after my parents died?”  
  
“No,” Rhodey scowls over at the first glass the bartender pours. “Felt like flirtin’, but couldn’t take anyone - 'side from you - home, so I’m flirtin’ with someone who can’t either, because she’s workin’.”  
  
“That’s - that’s so sweet, Rhodey-bear,” Tony sniffles, grabbing the first shot off the bar.  
  
Rhodey squints at Tony. “You know I’m not sleepin’ with you tonight, right?”  
  
Tony’s face falls. “But you did s'morning.”  
  
“I mean - no, I’m gunna do that again. I am ab-sol-utely gunna sleep with you again. I’m just not gunna have sex with you.”  
  
“Oh,” Tony says brightly. “That’s 'kay, I don’t wanna have sex with you either. You’re like my brother. Not that you’re not super sexy, you’re just - I don’t see you that way.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Good,” says the woman behind the counter. “And here’s the Kamikaze.”  
  
Rhodey frowns at the two shots. “You were gettin' the Kamikaze. But you just had a shot. Which means it was one of mine.” He shifts his glare to Tony.  
  
“No-o, I got two blowjobs, so we could both have one, and a kamikaze for me, because I wanna'd one a those, too.”  
  
“Ah, that makes sense.”

“Yes it does, I always do.”  
  
“No,” Rhodey says.  
  
“Yes,” Tony says.  
  
“No you don’t.”  
  
“Yes I do.”  
  
“Oh my god,” the bar keep says, rolling her eyes. “Weren’t you just going home?”  
  
“Aha!” says Rhodey. “We were indeed.”  
  
“Hmmpf,” Tony frowns. “Why?”  
  
“Because… We were gunna see Mama t’morrow?”  
  
“Oh,” a pause. “That makes sense.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
By the morning, Tony’s headache is far worse, and he’s remembering that it hurts to think about Jay and Mamma. Rhodey is curled into his side, cringing away from the open windows.  
  
They’d apparently forgotten to close the curtains, last night.  
  
Rhodey whines.  
  
“Breakfast?” Tony blearily asks the cyst attached to his stomach. “Coffee?”  
  
It whines again.  
  
“Right, well, I want coffee, so I’m getting up.”  
  
Rhodey buries his face further in Tony’s chest, and tightens his grip on his waist.  
  
“‘m not movin’.”  
  
“Maybe not, but I am.”  
  
Rhodey groans, but it turns into a whine (again).  
  
Tony sighs, and wriggles slightly, to adjust Rhodey’s hands. This allows him to pull them off himself with relative ease, and he slinks gentle out of bed.  
  
“I’ll be right back, honeybear.”  
  
Rhodey squints his eyes open to glare at Tony. “You’d better be.”  
  
Ten minutes later, Tony is back carrying a tray with not quite burnt toast slathered in butter and marmite (freshly imported especially for Rhodey), two cups and a coffee percolator full of coffee that smelled so good, it almost took his breath away, and two white pills - advil.  
  
Rhodey leans up against the wooden headboard.  
  
“Here,” Tony says sitting down gently, and setting the tray beside him.  
  
“Oh my god, I’d marry you if it was legal,” Rhodey mumbles through a slice of toast.  
  
Tony smiles and pours coffee into both mugs. He holds one out to Rhodey, and after he takes it, wraps both hands around his own mug.  
  
“I just can’t…” Tony huffs into his mug. He stares into it, like perhaps it holds the answers to everything.  
  
“It doesn’t feel real,” Rhodey supplies.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
They sit comfortably, Tony nibbling on Rhodey’s toast and finishing off a second cup of coffee. The toast is… Tony thinks he could come to like it, if only for Rhodey’s sake.  
  
“Mama Rhodes house, then?” Tony leans back, and into Rhodey’s side. “We’ll grab something from a grocery store on the way. Some bread? Your sister’s favourite flavour of juice?”  
  
“Sounds good,” Rhodey’s voice is slow as he shifting his arm to sit across Tony’s shoulder. “Sounds very good, Tones.”  
  
“I need a drink,” Tony says, thunking his head back against the wall.  
  
“Have one, then. Mama won’t mind, if it’s just one.”  
  
Tony slips out of bed again. “Thank you, Rhodey.” He rests a hand lightly on Rhodey’s for a second, before zipping out the door.  
  
Rhodey smiles as he gathers the tray and scattered plates. He takes the downstairs to the kitchen, where he puts them on the bench.  
  
  
  
The grocery store is really grey, and Tony hates it. He says as much, walking in the door.  
  
“It’s so dull, it’s like it’s sapping the life from me, Rhodey! Like a leech, or twelve, and my blood is just flowing out the other end, and I’m dying!”  
  
Rhodey snorfles into his MIT sweater. It was a little tight on him, and Tony was fairly sure that it had originally been his. Not that he could say anything - Rhodey’s MIT sweater was at the top of his washing pile.  
  
“Stop being so melodramatic, Tony. We all know that you’re just upset that Julius isn’t working here anymore.”  
  
Tony pouts, pitifully. “He was such nice eye candy, though.”  
  
“I won’t deny that.”  
  
“So,” Tony says, pulling his attention from the lack of intensely attractive workers. “Juice? Fresh bread? Cookies? Please say cookies,”  
  
“… cookies are fine. We’d just better not eat them all before we get to Mama’s house.”  
  
“I’ll be right back, then, you get the juice,” Tony does an excited leap into the air and races off toward the aisles full of cookies.  
  
Rhodey shakes his head.  
  
He wanders off to where the drinks are located, and is pulling a bottle of _Ruby Red Grapefruit Juice_ from the shelf when Tony prances (there is no other word for it) down the aisle toward him.  
  
“Ta-da!” Tony says in the most obnoxious voice he can pulls off, and it’s actually reasonably impressive, Rhodey thinks.  
  
Chocolate chip cookies are a classic for a reason, too.  
  
“So, just the bakery next door, then?” Rhodey asks.  
  
“Yep, I think so.”  
  
“You bring your wallet?”  
  
Tony pats at his pockets for a moment. “Yeah,” he says, producing it from the back pocket of his jeans.  
  
“Shall we go, then?”  
  
“Yes, we shall.”

 

  
  
Their two items are bagged, and they’re walking out the door when Tony spots her.  
  
Rhodey sighs, as a switch is visibly flicked in Tony’s brain, flipping him from _functioning_ to _flirting disaster._ _  
_  
“Hey lady,” Tony calls.  
  
Rhodey resists the urge to cringe away from him in shame. _This is absolutely what he gets for hanging out with the white boy._ _  
_  
The woman looks up from her determined walk,  showing off her red hair and blue eyes.  
  
“You wanna get married?”  
  
Rhodey fails to resist the urge to put his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... also I only just caught that I'd given Tony a cellphone in the third paragraph. it's 1991 people! so I replaced it with a watch. heh. 
> 
> I did far too much research for this, involving about an hour's worth of trying to work out eftpos in the US before I gave up and then also realised that it's 1991... and eftpos came out in the late 70's/early 80's and probably wasn't super common place... especially not in a taxi lol.
> 
> I also did research on flavours of juice - the one I mention in this is by Ocean Spary and was, apparently, released in 1991 to exceptional reviews. 
> 
> I looked up hoodies, too, and while they were a thing, I decided it's probably be more common to wear a sweater, particularly given that every govt except half of [my govt] apparently thinks they're bad - according to wikipedia, anyway. I'd give it a grain of salt, though I can definitely see the mp's here wanting to wear hoodies to work and getting away with it by claiming it's to help youth feel more welcome.
> 
>  
> 
> Headcanons I'm using (you know, for reference):  
> -The whole "Maria is Italian and Speaks Italian to Tony" thing  
> -Tony can play piano and is reasonably talented  
> -Rhodey and Tony are physically intimate ... by this I mean not that they have sex, but rather that they'd be comfortable cuddling naked. As mentioned in this first chapter, it's phillia, not eros.  
> -Also, Rhodey likes marmite. This is now a Thing. marmite is a wonderous delight, I will not take constructive criticism on this, I am right and everyone who disagrees is wrong  
> \- new hc: tony has like, a ton of pens/pencils and a drawing ad that he just carries around with him


	2. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is not greatly pleased by her current chances at survival.
> 
> She is also bored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mostly this is just thanks to everyone on the winteriron discord who've been helping me out and putting up with me (joining me in discussion) talking about ironwidow, and the severe, dissapointing lack of winterironwidow.
> 
> and also thanks to Rae, who I'm doing a sprint with right now, except I'm writing a summary and editing this chapter, instead of sprint writing. shrugs.

Natasha Romanova is having a shitty day. Admittedly, she’d been having a pretty shit few months, so this wasn’t all that out of place. She is on the run, from nearly everything, and could be fairly certain that she was only not captive right now due to the fact that nobody had thought to unmask her before she’d made her escape. They were stupid.

So yeah, this was just the latest in a long run of shitty days.

She’d run out of money about five weeks ago, and had resorted to petty theft, which she had learnt was not beneath her. She’d been squatting in unoccupied houses, not staying anywhere longer than two nights…

This morning, she’d found out that the power and water had been turned on where she was staying, and she’d rushed to have a hot shower before the owners arrived to their house.

The hot water had run out as she was putting shampoo in her hair. She scowls at the thought. It had been so nice, a brand new house in an unfinished subdivision, recently placed lawn, freshly painted.

And a brand-new bathroom. The chrome fixings and white plastic surfaces sparkled, and the carpet was so soft to sink her toes into. Her ratty towel she’d stolen from a motel two months ago looked even worse in the blistering cleanness of the bathroom. She turned on the tap, and stepped into the hot steamy water. It cascaded down her back, gently soothing her tired form. She just stood there, naked, relaxing, for a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that the sky that had been black before, was now lit up in sunlight. She’d startled into action, and grabbed the shampoo bottle (also stolen from the motel) and tipped it into her hand. She brought it up to her hair, and started massaging it in.

And then the water pressure dropped slightly and the water was only luke-warm. She’d hurried to finish washing and rinsing her hair, but by the time she was done, the water was freezing and she was shivering.

She scowls again at the thought, and sticks her hand in her large handbag to find her cigarettes. She does find her lighter… and an empty cigarette carton. She chucks it angrily into the next bin she sees.

Her handbag is fairly well organised, and it needs to be, so that’s good. It contains everything she owns, her single change of clothes, a wig, a single clip for her pistol, a necklace that someone she couldn’t remember had given her, a small makeup set, some hair ties, some documents under various names that were mostly hers, an empty purse and a number of bags of snack food.

She puts the lighter back where it belongs (next to the make up set) and pulls out a bag of beef jerky. It isn’t her favorite treat, but it does have enough lasting potential that it’d last her until after her want of a cigarette had passed.

She sighs. She wanders through the streets of NYC, trying to decide where she wants to go next. There are a lot of people, and no one pays her any attention at all. Places like this are comfortable. She likes it.

A grocery store on her right reminds her that she needs better food, not just beef jerky, chips and chocolate. While they cover most of the necessities (salt, sugar and fat), that isn’t going to keep her in good health, which she needs to keep herself out of any organizations’ hands.

She’s just deciding what she needs to lift from the store, when she hears someone speaking to her.

“Hey lady,”

She looks up at the… man. He must be about twenty, and his twenty something black friend is standing to one side looking resigned.

“You wanna get married?”

She looks him up and down. He’s only maybe three years younger than her, and reasonably attractive, too.

 _Being married to an American would fool everyone. I could… stop running,_ she thinks.

Aloud, she says, “Yes.”

The black man, who has his face in his hands, shifts one to rub at his temple.

The white man’s eyes grow wide, before he lights up with a beaming smile. “Wonderful.”

“Are we… going to get bread, or not, Tony,” asks the friend, plainly exasperated.

“Sure,” Tony replies. “Just let me…” He turns back to her. “So, my dear fiance, what’s your name?”

“I’m Natasha,” she says. Tony holds out an arm to her. She links her arm with his.

“I’m Tony,” he says and looks up to see where his friend has disappeared off to. “And that’s my friend Rhodey. Well, his name is James, but I call him Rhodey.” He gently tugs her along with him, and she sees James entering the doors to the bakery.

“So, what type of bread do you like? My favourite is probably banana bread, Rhodey really likes the beer bread his mama makes, and his sister likes the dark chocolate bread my-” Tony’s voices catches “- my Jay used to bake us.”

Natasha gently tightens her grip on Tony’s arm. “I like freshly-baked refined-flour bread.” She’s sure some of her accent comes through, but Tony either doesn’t notice, or deems it irrelevant.

“That’s good. That’s easy.”

Natasha nods. “Yes.” _That’s the point_.

They go through the door, and are met with a reasonable crowd. Tony pulls her through behind him, and they find James nearly at the counter. He raises his eyebrows, like he thought that at least one of them were not being serious.

“We also need some unsliced plain bread,” Tony asks.

James grunts in acknowledgement, still side-eyeing them.

“Rhodey, met my fiancee, Natasha. ‘Tash, met Rhodey.”

Natasha smiles. Giving her a nickname already is actually endearing.

“Hello, James. It’s nice to meet you,” she says.

James looks over at Tony, as though he can feel something off, but he holds his hand out to her anyway. “Hi.”

She still has her left hand linked in Tony’s arm, so she shifts her handbag to her elbow, and clasps his hand, shaking it politely.

“You’ll come with us to lunch, ‘Tash?”

“I have nowhere else to be.”

Tony smiles at her again, and it’s genuine enough that her stomach flutters. People don’t usually smile at her like that, especially given that Tony hasn’t even looked at her lustfully yet (aside from, she assumes, the moment he decided to call at her).

James is still looking at them and shaking his head intermittently. They move up to the counter to be served. He puts the three loaves he hand on the countertop, and asks of the cashier, “And a plain loaf, too, please.”

The woman nods. “Sure, one moment,” and steps over to the shelves.

“You don’t need to let anyone know where you are?” James asks her. “Friends that’ll worry?”

“No one who wants to know cares,” she replies.

James gives her another funny look, and Tony appears to ignore it again.

“So,” Tony asks as they’re leaving with their packages of food. “We’re going over to Mama Rhodes’ house, for dinner. And we’ll probably stay the night, too.”

“I think that is fine.”

“Mhmm. And when do you wanna get married? We could probably get it done tomorrow.”

Natasha thinks it over as they climb into what she guesses is James’ car. “Soon is better. Tomorrow is good.”

James looks over the back seat at them, as he’s turning the key. “You’re serious. You’re actually serious.”

Tony grins, buckling himself in. “Yeah. I mean, yeah. When I first saw her, I thought, there’s something special about her, you know?”

 _Something special indeed,_ Natasha thinks, feeling the light weight of her pistol against her leg. The heavy weight of her past.

James rolls his eyes, and starts reversing out of the park. “Whatever. You are signing a pre-nup, though. I’m not having you lose your money in a divorce.”

Natasha frowns. “No divorce. But what is a pre-nup?”

“It’s a form that we sign, that says that if we do get a divorce, we get what we came in with.”

They get to the traffic lights on the outside of the carpark, and the lights are a happy green colour. They turn right, not needing to stop, and James shifts the gear stick to third.

“That’s fair,” she says. “Everything I have is in this bag. It would not be reasonable compensation if I owned your car out of marriage, and you received my handbag.”

Tony beams at her. “We could sign the pre-nup tomorrow morning, and have the ceremony tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

James shakes his head.

 

 

 

The Rhodes’ house is a bit run down. It’s an old wooden building, and the paint is starting to flake 

But it’s very warm to look at.

Tony still hasn’t let go of her, and she’s not let go of him, yet, either. It’s not something she’s looking forward to needing to do. They all stepped out of the car, and James locked the door behind himself as they started up the worn pathway. They wait for James on the porch, and he steps around them to unlock the door.

“Mama,” James yells. “Papa! We’re home!” He waits a moment, and after hearing no response, turns Natasha and Tony. “They’ll be out getting something sweet for dessert. You guys happy in your usual room Tony?"

Natasha and Tony glance at each other. “We’ll be good with the one bed, Rhodey,” Tony smiles. “I’ll show you up, ‘Tash?”

“Okay,” she says.

“So,” Tony says, while they walk up the stairs. “Downstairs is the kitchen, lounge, laundry and a bathroom, and up here,” he gestures to the first door. “This is Jeanette’s room, the master bedroom,” he points at the door down the far end of the hall way, “Rhodey’s room, another bathroom and the guest bedroom.” He finishes with a flourish, and opens the door.

“That would be why it says _Tony_ on the sign on the door?”

Tony’s grin in response is small and secretive. “Obviously.”

It’s fairly small. The bed is a double, but it’s in better quality than she’s slept on in about seven months, so she’s actually looking forward to sleep. The walls are painted a loud red, and the carpet is a pattern she is sure goes with nothing. There is a window on the far side of the bed. A small dresser with a mirror, and wardrobe sit against one wall, and the bed, happily, has two bedside tables.

“Make yourself at home,” Tony says, loosening his grip on her arm. He doesn’t let go entirely, so she has to make the hard decision to pull herself from his side. She does so reluctantly. There is something comforting about being gently embraced by another person.

She puts her bag on the dresser, and heads over to the other side of the bed. Tony’s sitting on the side closest to the door, watching her softly.

She looks at the pillows and pats the bed before she sits down next to him, and something must show on her face, because then Tony says:

“You can sleep with your gun under your pillow if it will make you feel more comfortable.”

She starts slightly. “Have you seen it?”

“‘Tash, hips don’t click when people knock plastic into them.” It must have been the seat belt. _Корова_ _._

“You are comfortable with guns.” She narrows her eyes.

Tony rolls his. “I slept with one under my pillow for two years after my first kidnapping.”

“Hmmm,” she says. “That is reasonable, I suppose.” _And interesting._

Tony beams at her. “Surprisingly few people thought that. Jay-” Tony’s breath hitches. Like it did earlier. Natasha takes note. “- Jay was horrified when he woke me up one morning and I answered by pointing a gun in his face.”

Natasha looks a little confused. “Pointing guns is normal when someone is worried.”

“That’s what I said!”

James knocks on the door and peers in. “You two are not bonding over guns. That’s… I did not just hear that.”

Tony makes a face at her. “This is what everyone responds like when I have guns, and not just the drawings of them, around me. I’ve been kidnapped more than once! More than five times! They make me feel safer!”

Natasha nods in agreement. “This is what I think.”

James looks between the two of them. “Mama, Papa and Jean are home,” he says eventually.

“I’ll take you to meet the family?” Tony asks of her.

Natasha looks briefly uncertain, before her face masks over. “I’d be happy to.”

Tony holds out a hand to help her up, and she takes it. Tony doesn’t let it go, and instead, laces his fingers through hers. It’s really very good. She likes it.

James looks at their clasped hands before shaking his head, and leading them back down the stairs to meet his family.

“Mama Rhodes!” Tony exclaims. He reaches out to embrace her with one arm. “Papa, Jean!” He says into Mrs. Rhodes shoulder.

“Tony dear,” Mrs. Rhodes says warmly. “It’s so good to see you. And who’s this?”

Tony steps back to Natasha’s side, beams at her and grabs her hand. “This is my fiancee, Natasha.”

Mrs. Rhodes beams in return. “Aha! I will finally have a daughter in law.” She leans forward to drag Natasha into an embrace, eyeing James speculatively, like he might produce a fiance from thin air. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Rhodes,” she says. It’s muffled by the warm woolen scarf Mrs. Rhodes is wearing.

“None of that, dear. Roberta or Mama Rhodes will do,” Mama Rhodes says, pulling back but leaving her hands on Natasha’s shoulders. “My, you are beautiful, aren’t you? Tony has out-done himself.”

Natasha smiles.

“This is my husband, Terrence -”

“I would not object to being called Papa, as Tony calls me,” Papa says. He has Tony wrapped around him, but Tony is quickly letting him go, in favor of giving Jeanette a hug.

“- and our daughter, Jeanette.”

“Hi, Natasha,” she gives a little wave from beneath Tony’s arms. She looks to be about ten, and is wearing a cute, turquoise overcoat that Natasha now wants.

“Hello, Jeanette.”

Mama Rhodes takes off her scarf, and fusses with Papa’s scarf, before taking that, too. She shuffles out of them room, clearly going to put away their cold weather clothes.

“Would any of you like a hot drink?” Papa asks.

“I-” Tony starts.

“Coffee, yes. Black. We know, Tony,”

Tony smiles widely.

“May I have some herbal tea, please?” Natasha asks.

Jeanette looks at her, and then says, “Can I have some tea, too, papa?”

James sighs at Jeanette. “I’ll just have some hot chocolate, thanks, papa.”

Papa heads into the kitchen, and the sounds of a kettle boiling soon emerge.

Tony leads Natasha into the lounge, where Tony sits down on an arm chair, and Natasha thinks, _why not_ , and sits halfway on his lap.

James sits on the couch opposite them, the low coffee table between them. Jeanette grabs a soft-looking short stool and sits down, seated at the table.

“I can’t believe how seriously everyone is taking this,” James says. “And, man, you’re just… happily. Doing your thing. Like you didn’t have a commitment freak out on your girlfriend of half an hour last semester.”

Tony shrugs. “I dunno, honey bear. I just. I looked at ‘Tash, and it was as though I knew her. Intellectually, _I know_ I only met you, what? Six hours ago? Seven? But… it feels like I’ve known her my whole life, and just only met her now.”

“That’s really weird, Tony,” James says.

Natasha blinks. That’s actually pretty much how she feels, too. Now that she’s thinking about it, she’s been letting her guard down stupidly with Tony. There's something about him, that makes her feel safe. 

“You only met her today?” Jeanette asks, eyes wide.

Tony’s eyes match the surprise on Jeanette’s face. “I… yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I proposed to her outside the grocery store, when we got cookies, and your juice.”

“But that’s when you proposed. When did you meet?” She’s young enough that her childish curiosity is still there.

James groans, and his head falls to the back of the seat he is sitting in. “You’re fucking ridiculous, Tony.”

It’s Natasha who answers. “That’s how we met - he proposed to me.”

Jeanette looks a little impressed with that. “That’s like it’s out of a fairy-tale,” she says happily. “You’re the coolest brother ever!”

James lets out another groan, when Tony looks over at him smugly and says, “I am the coolest. Suck on that, honeybear.”

“Nobody will be sucking on anything except the chocolate eclairs,” Papa interrupts. “And don’t tease your brother, Tony.”

Tony pouts, but looks suitably cowed when Papa turns a stern look on him.

Papa sets down the tray he is holding, with its six cups, plate of eclairs, and bowl of dried fruit.

“Now, what’s this I hear about you two being from a fairy-tale?”

Natasha grabs two eclairs, and a small hand full of banana chips. She passes an eclair to Tony, who immediately starts eating it.

James groans again. “Apparently, proposing to a stranger is very romantic.”

“It is!” Jeanette insists. “Natasha is cool, and I get an older sister, too!”

Tony starts laughing quietly into Natasha’s neck.

Casually, Tony asks "So, what's new with you, papa?  
  
  
  


 

They are sat down at an oval table in the dining room for dinner. There is a good-sized roast on the table, and it smells divine. Natasha eyes the pumpkins in the roasting-dish, and sees Tony doing the same.

Natasha is sat across from Jeanette and beside Tony, while James sits across from him. Papa is settling down into the seat between James and Tony, and Mama Rhodes is carrying another steaming pot to put on the table. _Ugh_ , Natasha thinks, _peas._ But she needs to eat some, unfortunately.

She sees Tony giving the peas a disgusted look.

“Dig in!” Papa says.

Mama Rhodes reaches for the tongs and starts dishing out the chicken to their plates. James goes straight for the potato, and Tony grabs a fork and starts stabbing the pumpkin onto her plate first, and then his own.

Jeanette is stealing most of the pinenuts from the bowl on the table.

When they are all dished up, Mama Rhodes asks, “So, how’re you doing, Tony, dear?”

“I’m okay,” he says. He stabs several pieces of pumpkin onto his fork, and puts the whole thing into his mouth. He can’t actually close his lips around the pumpkin, Natasha notes with amusement.

She watches as he pulls the fork from his mouth, and he quickly leans over his plate when he realizes he’s not going to succeed in keeping the pumpkin in his mouth. Several squished bits fall onto the plate with soft splats that are nearly unheard over the clacking of knives and forks.

“He’s been doing well, today,” she answers for him, still watching him struggle with his food. “I like to think I’m helping.”

“Ooo ahhh,” Tony says, muffled through his food.

Mama Rhodes rubs at her forehead. “Tony, please.”

Tony gives an apologetic look in her direction. He swallows some of his mouthful, and shuts his mouth.

“So what work do you do?” Natasha asks. “I’m between jobs right now.”

“I’m an air-force mechanic, mostly what I do is make sure our planes won’t fall out of the sky, but yesterday my boss got me to fix his pen, so that’s a thing I do," Papa says, quirking a smile.

“I work in town as a florist.”

Natasha smiles. “That must be why you smell so nice.”

Mama Rhodes smiles at her. “Thank you.”

“I go to school!” Jeanette says, perking up. “I’m in grade five, so I’m really close to Junior High!”

“That’s impressive,” Natasha says. She thinks that’s the correct response, and judging by the pleased smile Jeanette gives her, and the fond smile Tony gives her, she is right.

“So how did you two meet?” Mama Rhodes asks.

“It was very ro-mantic,” Jeanette say. “Tony proposed to her!”

Both Papa and Mama Rhodes laugh at that. “How cute,” she says. She turns to Tony and Natasha, clearly expecting a different explanation.

Tony just holds his hands up and shakes his head a little.

Natasha looks at him. He’s really very nice to look at. “When he called out to me on the, I just thought… Why not? And we find each other good to be near.” Tony beams.

Mama Rhodes is eyeing them with suspiciously wet eyes. Papa is focussing on sweeping up the last of the sauce from his plate with his finger.

James looks between his parents, who are clearly enjoying this story. “Why are you just accepting this?” he asks flatly. “It’s ridiculous. Insane. Absurd.”

Mama Rhodes looks at him oddly. “What’s so absurd about cat calling someone and having them respond? Admittedly most responses aren’t so positive, but Natasha here is hardly the first to do so.”

“Because _most people_ don’t just up and decide _on a whim_ to get married to a complete stranger! It happened at, like, ten o’clock this morning, you - you are all just doing your happy-families thing like this is _normal!_ I know that Tony is bizarre at the best of times - I love you Tones, truly I do, but i’m not wrong - but this is too far! Just Holy F-”

“Is that really - oh. Wow.” Papa says.

Tony uses his fork to spear some more pumpkin, this time from the roasting dish. He stuffs his mouth full again.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Yes, it is true.” She elbows Tony for making her speak for him again.

Jeanette sighs wistfully. “I wish someone would do that for me one day.”

James lets out a strangled gasp, and both Mama Rhodes and Papa chuckle.

“You two are serious about this?” Mama Rhodes asks.

“Rhodey is making us get a pre-nup,” Tony says.

“Our plan were to get the pre-nup tomorrow morning, and be married by tomorrow night, correct?”

Tony nods at her. “Yeah."

Mama Rhodes shakes her head at them. “Well, I’ll go get dessert, if we’re done with dinner?” Everyone murmurs their agreement, and Natasha grabs a last piece of pumpkin before Mama Rhodes takes the dish back to the kitchen. “Jeanette, would you grab the empty plates for me, dear?”

Jeanette pouts, but does so.

 

 

 

By the time they’re getting ready for bed, Natasha is exhausted. There has been so much talking, and so much familial conversation, with her masks up. She’s not had to perform that hard in, well, ever.

This is nearly twelve straight hours of playing the part of someone who doesn’t know how to easily remove someone’s life. Tony is, thankfully, seemingly uncaring of what she is. What she  _ was. _

“I have some spare pyjamas in the second draw down,” Tony says, gesturing at the drawers her handbag is still sitting on. “If you don’t wanna sleep naked.”

Natasha pauses in stripping off her shirt. Her pants are already on the bedside table, along with her jersey. She steps over to the drawers, and opens it. The set on the top is a faded grey colour, and she already likes them before she has picked them up and found out that they’re full length and very soft. Then she loves them.

“You don’t mind if I sleep like this?” Tony asks. He’s holding up his side of the covers slightly, apparently waiting for permission. He’s only wearing his boxers - Tony is clearly efficient at removing his clothes.

“It’s fine,” she says. Tony immediately slides into the bed, sighing comfortably. He has his eyes closed, and rests his head on the pillow. He puts a hand between the mattress and the slats, and a soft smile appears on his face.

Natasha removes her shirt, and puts on Tony’s pyjama bottoms. They’re loose, but aren’t falling. She’s keeping them. They even go with her bra, which is a plain, old, off white thing that she’s unhooked at the back for comfort.

“You look really beautiful in those,” Tony says. Natasha turns around to look at him. His eyes are wide open, and tiredly happy. He’s being honest. “I think I like you in my clothes.”

Natasha swings her hips as she struts around to her side. It certainly catches Tony’s gaze, and his eyes widen a bit.

“I’m so exhausted,” he grumbles, looking straight at her waist. “This is so sad.” He looks down at the lump he’s making in the duvet.

She pulls her pistol out of the holster that was on top of her pants. Its weight tells her that the cartridge is missing one bullet, and she checks the safety. She tucks it under her pillow, and pulls back the covers to climb in. Tony holds out an arm, and she lets him pull her closer.

When she’s tucked unto him, her back to his chest, and his chin hooked over her shoulder, he says, “Mine is on the bed slats.”

She laughs quietly. She is truly fond of this man.

“What are you running from?” Tony asks with a sincerity and knowing that should be beyond him.

“Everything,” she whispers. She wonders what to tell him. How much. “It’s - hard to explain.”

“Am I going to hear about you from my Aunt?” He asks.

“Why would she? Where is she working?”

“SHIELD.”

Natasha shrugs slowly, so as not to jostle Tony roughly, or dislodge him.

“Probably not. I shouldn’t be on their radar.”

“So, who…?”

She holds the silence for a moment, letting it linger and fill in the holes of what they’re not saying.

“Most every Russian government department, several Russian criminal groups, MI6, CIA, two Ukrainian criminal groups, and a terrorist group. Only the Russians, the CIA and one Ukrainian group want me dead.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “I can deal with the groups that have anything online. But the rest…”

Natasha frowns. “I could kill you,” she says not quite furiously. “Deader than, than, a dead thing! And you do not care?”

“Natasha,” Tony frowns. “I wasn’t kidding when I called you my fiancé. Which means your problems are mine, and mine are yours.”

Natasha just blinks, confused and oddly touched. “So, you will deal with this threat, then.”

“I’m a good hacker, ‘tash. I can’t do much else.”

“But… you could be killed. For someone you met twelve hours ago.”

Tony sighs. “Look. I’ll build myself some armor, so I won’t die, and I’ll build you better armour and even better guns, and then you won’t die either. Is that okay?”

Natasha twists in his hold to look him in the eyes. She studies him a moment. “Can you do this?” Tony nods. “Very well,” and she tucks herself back into him, pulls his arm across her chest, and with her other arm, finds his that lies beneath her neck and tucks up on her pillow and… laces their fingers together.

Tony kisses her the back of her head. Natasha feels warm.

 

 

 

When she wakes up in the morning, she can feel Tony moving about behind her. He’s pulled out a drawing pad - from his bed side table it looks like - and a bunch of pencils. When Natasha rolls over to see what he’s drawing, he flattens it on the bed and spins it toward her.

“So? D’ya like it?”

Natasha stares down at it. It’s a set of plans for a set of skin-tight body armour, that she could wear under her normal clothes to disguise them. And when she flips the pad to show a previous drawing, it shows her a pair of knuckle dusters that can apparently taze her enemies. If she’s reading the plans right, they have enough power to easily stop someone’s heart.

When she flicks her eyes back to Tony, who’s smile is faltering, she realises she’s gaping at the plans.

“They’re… thank you Tony,” She says.

His smile breaks out broadly again. “And this is what I’m building myself. I figured you were more the up-close style of fighter.” He flicks to the next page, where what looks like a set of classical knights’ armour is styled in red and gold.

“What?” He says at her look. “I’m not gunna let my wife die on my watch.”

He flicks back another page. “Also, I want high power roller blades.” It shows a close view of his armors’ boots.

Natasha is startled into a genuine laugh, and Tony beams at her, and lets out a few laughs of his own. Natasha settles onto her back, and holds the pad above her head. “Tell me about these plans.”

Hours later, and they’re still lying side by side. James – Rhodey – came in to interrupt them and let them know that breakfast was being served, but saw they were content, and left them alone. The sun is streaming through the crack in the curtains, and for the first time in days, Tony feels… alive.

“This is the start of the rest of our lives. We’re free.”

Natasha fiddles with hands, wondering how they will look with a wedding ring on them, before looking over at Tony.

“We are not free. We will never be truly free, you of your responsibilities, me of my past. But we are together, and we are safe. And I’m finding that this is enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> umm? so this bit is done, now.
> 
> I feel like the end is a little cheesy, but *shrugs* what can you do
> 
> I have intentions of adding more bits to this story, which is why it is now a series C:  
> Hope you all enjoyed it!


End file.
